Memories
by Angel of Fate
Summary: Ficlet. Jordan reminisces. WJ (One shot)


****

Title: Memories

Author: Angel of Fate

Summary: Ficlet. Jordan reminisces. W/J

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Probably never will.

AN: I had this annoying little fic that just kept pounding at my brain until I wrote something, anything. So here it is, wrote it in about 2 hours or so. With a little luck there'll be a super angsty version of this that will match the song that it's based on. For now, here's some crappy fluff/drama. Enjoy!

It was cold, the kind of cold that chilled you from the inside rather than out. Clouds hung overhead, heavy with the promise of rain, the ground still damp from the night before. Her heels dug into the soft mud as she opened up the heavy iron gates. The freezing metal instantly stung at her skin, and she briefly pulled her hand back. Pushing through, she walked the path that she had walked many times before. It twisted from left to right and up the slight slope. There she knelt at the grave. Slowly, she ran the tips of her fingers across the slab of stone.

__

Listen how the angel sings  
Now that you rest upon her wings  
Love will still linger on  
As she sings her halcyon song

Woodrow Wilson Hoyt  
1974-2006

Jordan Cavanaugh inhaled a shaky breath, the cool air getting caught in her throat. Her amber eyes began to fill with tears that rolled down her cheeks, already red and blotchy from the harsh wind. She didn't bother to wipe them away; they just slid off her jaw to the ground below, almost like raindrops.

"Hey Woody," she spoke gently, "I brought you flowers," Jordan laid the humble bouquet at the foot of the grave. "How's that for a change? Me bringing you flowers." The small chuckle that passed through her pursed lips sounded foreign even to her own ears.

"I love you. After all these years I don't think I've ever told you that. God, I never thought it'd be this hard," Jordan shook her head. "I never thought I'd have to do this again. Not after everything…"

_ ****_

St. John's Hospital.

March 12, 2005.

"Jordan don't you ever do that to me again!" Woody shouted, his sky blue eyes growing darker as if a storm were brewing behind them.

"Jeez Woody," Jordan shrugged off his hands that gripped her tightly by the shoulders.

"You scared me half to death Jordan," he sighed, his hands reached out for her again, this time cupping her face with his strong palms. "You could have got yourself killed."

"I-I'm sorry," she stammered.

"Damn right you are!" he yelled once more, his hands flying to rest on his hips. He lowered his voice when some of the hospital staff began to give him curious stares. "Do you know how scary it was to get that call? My heart literally leaped into my throat Jordan. I was worried sick. If anything happened to you…"

"Woody, I'm fine," Jordan argued.

"Jordan," Woody gave her a disbelieving look. "You were shot."

"Yeah, and I'm fine," she retorted. "Now help me with my crutches."

"Fine, huh?" he questioned with a smirk, but lifted her to her feet.

"Doc says I'll be running marathons before I know it," Jordan replied, steadying herself. She faltered, but Woody placed a reassuring hand upon her back.

"You've never ran a marathon Jordan," Woody remarked.

"Yeah, but now if I want to, I can," she smiled. "Besides it's just a little flesh wound."

Woody's face pulled into a frown as she said that.

"What were you doing there anyway?" he asked. "I thought we agreed that it was the cops who investigate. Not ME's with too much time on their hands and a hungering curiosity."

"Thirst for truth and lust for adventure," Jordan automatically corrected. "I didn't really plan on going to the guy's house, but one thing lead to another…how was supposed to know he had a gun?"

"Well, that's just the thing Jordan," he began. "You didn't know, you didn't have proper back up and look what happened."

"Okay, okay," she conceded. "Lecture received. I get the message."

"Good," Woody nodded.

"So you were worried?" Jordan questioned, after a brief moment of silence.

"Of course," he shrugged, guiding her down the hall as she tried to maneuver the crutches without disturbing her injured leg.

"So if anything ever happened to me…?" she grinned.

"If anything ever happened to you," Woody repeated. "God, I don't even know what Jordan. I care about you."

"Oh do you?" Jordan raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah," he started to blush, to the sheer amusement of Jordan. "I love you."

"Uh…" she stopped. He had caught her off guard with that one. "Thanks?" Jordan offered meekly.

Woody smiled, "You're extremely welcome."

**__**

The Pogue.

May 20, 2004.

"Hey barkeep, what's a guy have to do to get a drink around here?" Woody leaned over the bar on his elbows, grinning ear to ear.

Jordan turned around, her long brown curls swinging around her pretty face. She had a dishtowel slung over one shoulder, one hand on the counter, the other on her hip and a single cocked eyebrow in response to being called 'barkeep'.

"Well that all depends," she answered, one eyebrow raised to meet the other.

"On what?" he asked with a chuckle.

"On if I like you enough," Jordan replied.

"Well do you?" he smirked.

"Maybe," she told him as she leaned forward. Grabbing his tie, Jordan pulled him into a deep kiss. Lips, tongues and teeth mashed together.

"Oh, is that all?" a breathless Woody questioned. Jordan rolled her eyes. Her and Woody had began quasi-dating around early April. They both just seemed to fall into it. And it fit.  
**  
**"That's the cover charge, there's a fee later," Jordan winked.

"If that's how much a drink costs, what constitutes a pitcher?" Nigel Townsted asked from the end of the bar, a smile dancing across his face.

Both Jordan and Woody's friends were taking immense pleasure in the newfound relationship. Relentless teasing had ensued and just never stopped. There wasn't anything off limits either, and everyone had had a jab at the couple's expense.

"Yeah, I'd like to get some of that service," Bug chimed in.

"When's this going to stop?" Woody jerked his thumb in the direction of the two colleagues (who he had affectionately dubbed 'the gruesome twosome' as well as 'dynamic duo'). Both began to hoot and whistle cat calls.

"When either of them gets a date," Jordan said loudly.

"So never?" he inquired, with a mock look of surprise.

"Never sounds about right," Jordan agreed with a laugh.

"I resent that," Nigel replied just as loud, picking up the metal ashtray from the table and held it in front of him like a mirror. He smoothed out his long, jet-black hair.

"You resemble that," Bug scoffed.

"I'm one handsome bugger, Buggles," Nigel continued, admiring his reflection.

Ignoring the gruesome twosome, Woody turned to Jordan.

"I think three minutes is long enough to wait for that fee you promised," Woody smiled suggestively.

"Oh, you do?"

Woody only nodded.

"Hey Nige!" Jordan called to her friend. "How'd you like to make a few extra bucks tonight?"

"Sure pet, what's the catch?" Nigel eagerly rubbed his palms together in anticipation.

"Lock up, would you?" she untied the apron from her waist and tossed it, along with the dishtowel, to Nigel.

Taking her hand, Woody led her around the bar where he promptly kissed her. She smiled and leaned into him as they began to walk out the door.

"Have a nice shag—I mean night!" Nigel shouted after them with a wave.

**Jordan's Place.**

August 6, 2005.

Jordan and Woody lay tangled in the sheets in the bedroom of Jordan's loft-style apartment. The night was hot and sticky, the open window blowing a muggy breeze throughout the place.

"Are you happy?" Jordan asked.

Her small frame was pressed against his, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, which was slung around her waist, their free hands laced together.

"What kind of question is that?" Woody looked down at her.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "An honest one?"

"Of course I'm happy Jordan," he pressed a kiss into her hair.

"This could all be gone tomorrow," she sighed.

"You know something I don't?" Woody teased.

"I'm serious Woody, anything can happen."

"Jordan," he shifted, so he was on his side, facing her. "I will never leave you. Ever. I promise."

"Woody, that's pretty presumptuous promise to make. Don't you think?" Jordan asked.

"When it comes to you Jordan I don't. Think that is," Woody smiled and running a finger down the side of her cheek he leaned in to kiss her.

"I knew that overly sappy farm boy still existed somewhere inside there," she smirked and poked him lightly in the chest.

"Oh?" Woody's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I think that was over the line Dr. Cavanaugh."

"You're a tough man, you can take it," she answered.

"I don't know. I'm a sensitive guy Jordan. You said so yourself, overly sappy," Woody heaved a dramatic sigh.

"Woody," Jordan rolled her eyes.

"Yep, just an sensitive farm boy—" Woody began, but instead yanked the pillow from beneath Jordan's head and smacked it down on her head.

"Hey, play fair Hoyt!" she put her hands in front of her face.

"I think fair was thrown out the window when there was line crossage," he told her, thwaping her on the arm.

"Oh, it's on," Jordan grabbed a pillow of her own and hit him mercilessly.

**Woody's Apartment.**

December 24, 2005.

The soft glow of Christmas lights filled the small living room of Woody's apartment. Carols played from the stereo that was set on the counter of the kitchen. It seemed that the holidays had come so fast this year. Jordan sat beneath the tree, inspecting the gifts with an almost childlike excitement.

"There's one there for you," Woody stated as he came into the room, carrying two cups of eggnog, everyone's traditional drink of choice.

"Oh, I wasn't—" Jordan stood abruptly, accepting the glass that Woody held out for her.

"What, you think I wouldn't get you a Christmas present?" he asked.

"No, it's not that," she shook her head, and then guiltily produced the tiny package from inside the sleeve of her sweater. "I just wasn't expecting something…small."

"Ever heard of that old saying 'It's the thought that counts'?" Woody questioned, taking the gift from her.

"I didn't mean, **small**. Well, I did…" she fumbled around with her words, a slight pink blush creeping into her cheeks. Up until this moment Woody didn't know that Jordan had the capability to blush. "It's just that little pretty presents on Christmas? Usually equals one thing."

"Oh yeah?" Woody, amused, grinned. "And what's that?"

"Forget I said anything," Jordan dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand and to avoid looking at Woody stared into the eggnog.

"You could always, you know, open it and find out," Woody suggested with a half-shrug.

"But yours is at my place, it uh…wouldn't be—" she stopped, once again too flustered to make a coherent sentence.

"Nah, go ahead," he handed her back the gift.

"Sure," she took the present and slowly began to unwrap it.

It was, as Jordan had so cleverly suspected, a jewelry box. Popping open the crushed velvet lid, revealed that there was no ring inside. Instead there was a folded up piece of paper. Jordan removed the paper and smoothed it out. There, written in Woody's sloppy scrawl were the words: 'Look up.'

"Woody, what—" Jordan started, looking up as the paper had said.

There was Woody in front of her, down on one knee, a ring in his hand.

"Jordan will you—" he began, but stopped. Not because of the tears, although there were certainly plenty from both parties, but because Jordan had leapt into his arms, pushing him over and knocking the wind out of him.

"Yes," she whispered, still lying on top of him, her hair tickling his face and her breath hot against his cheek.

"Yes?" Woody repeated with a slight amount of shock in his voice.

"Yes," Jordan said for a second time.

"Jeez Jordan," he sighed. "Your babbling had me worried before."

"Well, what if I was wrong and it wasn't what I thought it was?" she asked, in manner Woody didn't know she possessed.

"Are you sure you're Jordan?" he inquired.

"I'm yours, that's what I am," Jordan replied, with a kiss.

"Merry Christmas Jordan."

"Merry Christmas Woody."

The cemetery was deafeningly silent, only the light rustle of the leaves in the breeze to be heard. Glancing around, Jordan realized that she was the only person there. It She was alone. Life had mocking sort of symbolism.

"See, I knew that you couldn't promise to stay here forever," Jordan stated, a fresh batch of tears running down her face. "But I'll tell you what, I'll keep you right here." She placed her hand upon her heart before leaning in to press her lips faintly against the stone. "I love you."


End file.
